The Diary of Nettlebrand
by DrBlowhole1
Summary: Have you ever wondered what Nettlebrand's life was like before Dragon Rider? Well, now you can find out as the big guy writes his very own DIARY. The evil guy writing a book about himself? Read as Nettlebrand guides you through his past in first person.


**The Young Age of Nettlebrand**

**Chapter 1: The Creation of Nettlebrand**

**by: Malefor**

Notes: I do not own Dragon Rider by Cornelia Funke, nor do I own its characters. This story will be kind of like a diary by the big guy (despite his anger against his master for making him write it). I hope to keep this fan fiction going. Comments and constructive criticism appreciated.

**Friday, May 13, 1424**

First, to get this straight, I never wanted this blasted diary in the first place, but my creator, Petrosius Henbane, said that I had to. I don't know why I didn't just eat him in the first place. He wouldn't have been able to stop me anyways. First, I will just flat out say that my name is the charming and heroic Nettlebrand the Golden One, and I am a very powerful, young, golden dragon created just a few hours ago.

I am a very important person (also known as a VIP, as I've been told), for I have been told to hunt down silver dragons and bring their horns to my creator. He says that his knights aren't killing enough, so it's my job to help him out. I haven't killed a dragon yet, but I will be going out to hunt tomorrow.

I've just met my very annoying room mates, eleven strange creatures that Petrosius calls "homunculus". I just call them servants of mine. They were created to help me, so that makes me feel loved on the inside. Some of them I call my armor-cleaners, others I just call them stuff like claw-cleaner and tooth-picker, but either way they all take part in helping me. But one particular homunculus I have been keeping my eye on. Petrosius calls him Twigleg, but I call him spider-legs. He seems as if he might be of some use to me.

In case you are wondering why I have an armor-cleaner is because my master made indestructible armor on my body to protect me from dragon fire. He says that dragon fire causes enchanted creatures to turn back into what they were before they were enchanted. Which brings me to another subject.

I have no idea what I was created from. Only my master knows. However, I know what my cleaners were made from though. Spiders. Yeah, this is the reason why I call Twigleg spider-legs. I didn't tell them what they were created from. I didn't want them to start crying all over my armor from being created from something so tiny and weak. It would make my armor rust.

As I write this, I am currently in a large chamber deep within the bowls of an ancient castle with all of the homunculus getting ready to go to sleep. Which brings me to the fact that I'm living in the mountains of France. I've heard of this place called Paris and how it is all beautiful and romantic. I highly doubt that; I am much more beautiful.

Oh, yes! I've forgotten to tell you about my creator. My creator, Petrosius Henbane, is supposed to be a skilled alchemist. He claims that he has discovered the ability to give life to his creations. So he created me and the homunculus. I asked him why he didn't want to tell people his amazing discovery, but he just said that it was a "secret".

Also, if any of you have noticed the date at the top of this page, Friday, May 13, then you should know what that means. Yeah, that's right: Friday the 13th, the king of all bad luck. I've been told by Petrosius that today is just a myth and that people would think that if you walked under a latter, then it would fall on you. Or, if you broke a mirror, you would have bad luck. I don't believe any of this malarkey and neither does my creator, but my cleaners aren't so sure. I just hope that I don't wake up with my armor rusted...

If none of you have realized it yet, I must say that I must certainly AM a male. Anyone who denies my sex shall be eaten by yours' truly and digested into dragon dung, as my creator calls it. Anyone who denies my genius shall be killed, I don't care if I'm acting cruel. Got that?

Anyways, now that that is over, I have just been commanded by Petrosius to go to sleep, so I must conclude this first entry. My creator has told me of things called dreams, and I am marvelously wanting to see them, so go away, now. As Petrosius has told me, I need my beauty sleep.


End file.
